Friction. Ignition. Conflagration.

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tumbleweed.

the silent folks tell me i should be away,
looking for it someplace else-
through the borders and down the road
just staring dead straight ahead

it may be so that fate or destiny
or luck or the invisible prime mover itself
has cast a spell upon me, unknown
and never will i ever find whatever i’m looking for

I guess, thriving and living and surviving –
all these i may do and succeed in doing so
but never in a million years, under the skies
ever will i ever know why i should even do so

and yet between the lines, i never stop
Never even risk a sudden, unexpected halt
I keep on looking and i keep on moving forward
and perhaps like a tumbleweed in a desert,
the answer would come rolling in front of my eyes.